


Bargains - Part Two

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [22]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles continues his conversation with Miss Frost</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bargains - Part Two

_Three years and one month ago,_

 

Charles pulled himself away from the contract at long last, a shudder running through his frame and his mind reeling. 

He couldn’t help but feel rather dazed. He had read the contract from beginning to end, going over every single line and scrutinising every single phrase, in search of … well, he wasn’t quite sure _what_ he had been searching for. A loophole? The small-print? If so, he was massively disappointed on both counts; the contract was iron-clad and – surprisingly – as straightforward as it was possible to be, considering the circumstances. Not that it would have mattered if he _had_ found any inconsistencies, of course; Charles was well aware that the Foundation had him right where they wanted him and that there was nothing that he could do about it. Why they even bothered with contracts at all was a mystery to him.

His eyes involuntarily dipped towards the document once more and he swallowed. Words and phrases that he had read moments before leapt out at him: _four years and eight months_ , the contract had stated over and over again _… relinquishes custody of both physical and mental faculties … Shall remain unconscious and unaware for the duration of the contract … Agrees to the various tasks, acts or assignments set before him whilst placed in our custody ..._

The contract had gone on and on in the same vein for at least eight more pages.

The final few pages, on the other hand, outlined the details of Charles’s ‘payment’ for services rendered: _… the sum of five million dollars only … the Dollhouse shall not prosecute either individual … Miss Darkholme’s release to be effected immediately upon the signing of this document … retaining no memory, knowledge or compulsion … All debts to be paid in full …_

And finally, a sentence that made him shiver: _Exchange of contracts proves final and irrevocable._

Not that Charles would ever think of pulling out, of course. It was just it made things seem so very … well. Final.

_At least this way Raven won’t try anything stupid,_ he tried to console himself. _This way, things won’t devolve into some sort of stupid cycle of selflessness …_

‘Charles?’

The sound of his name made him glance up, his eyes bleary.

Miss Frost was watching him with a polite look of enquiry on her face.

‘Did you read it in full?’ she asked him solicitously. ‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’

Charles suppressed a hysterical laugh. No, he felt like saying, everything was most certainly _not_ to his satisfaction. Things were, in fact, so much not to his satisfaction that he could almost cry. Frankly, he was rather surprised that he wasn’t in tears already.

‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘Yes, everything seems to be perfectly fine.’

Emma smiled.

‘Excellent,’ she said, clearly pleased by this. ‘Then we are in agreement?’

Charles swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Five years of your life for five years of your dear sister’s freedom, then,’ Emma mused, watching him carefully. ‘Five years in which you agree to anything and everything that we ask whilst you yourself remain blissfully unaware, after which you will be able to leave with no questions asked, no criminal record – for you or your sister – and considerably more in your bank account … not, of course, that you need it.’

Charles nodded vaguely, still reeling.

‘You are sure, then?’ Emma asked lightly, raising an eyebrow at him. ‘You are certain that you are willing to do this?’

Charles slowly lifted his head and met her eyes.

‘What other choice do I have?’ he asked her helplessly.

Emma held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

‘If you are indeed ready,’ she said after a minute, her tone strangely mild, ‘then it is time to sign the contract.’

Charles opened his mouth to ask for a pen when one was placed before him, even though he had not noticed Miss Frost moving to retrieve it. He looked at it for a moment: the shiny, expensive pen on the dark wood of the desk. Then he reached forward and, insides still numb, opened the cap, laid it down on the desk and, pulling the papers towards him, quickly signed his name.

His hand did not tremble even once.

Emma watched as he finally lifted the pen from the paper and the both of them just stared at the signed document for a moment, as if needing a minute to take in the significance of that one small line of ink.

Then Emma let out a sigh and Charles was roused from his numbness just in time to see her raise a phone – and where on earth had it even come from? – to her ear. She paused for a moment, allowing it to ring through to the other side, before speaking just three words in a clipped tone.

‘It is done,’ she said, before hanging up. Then, still not looking at Charles, she hit a second button on the keypad before once again bringing it up to her ear. Her call was answered after mere seconds.

‘Dr. Essex,’ she said coolly, her tone cold and professional, ‘This is Emma Frost speaking. You have Mystique with you, I presume?’ She paused. ‘Good. Keep her there. Now please go and unlock the master cabinet. Yes, you heard correctly, Doctor – the master cabinet.’ Another pause. ‘You will need to look for a Miss Darkholme,’ she enunciated clearly. ‘Yes, that’s right, Raven Darkholme. Yes, Nathaniel, she is being discharged. No – no more questions. Set her up. Inform me the moment that it is done.’ She hung up.

Charles was staring at her with wide eyes.

‘Was that …’ he trailed off, unable to even voice his question.

Emma raised an eyebrow.

‘Was that about your sister?’ she asked for him. ‘Yes, Mr. Xavier, it was. Don’t look so shocked,’ she allowed the corner of her mouth to twitch upwards. ‘We had a deal, did we not? Your contract for your sister’s. And now that you have signed it …’ she moved her shoulders in an elegant shrug, ‘Well – a deal is a deal, is it not?’

Charles’s mind was reeling. He’d agreed, yes, but somehow he had never truly believed that that would be all. That it would be that easy. Surely he was missing something.

‘And – and she’s free?’ he asked, suspicion only just covering the shivery joy that was racing through his veins. ‘Her contract’s ended and you’ll let her go – just like that?’

‘Just like that. She won’t remember a thing, of course,’ Emma added, looking thoughtful. ‘To her it will be as if she fell asleep one moment and woke up the next. She _will_ probably be slightly disorientated,’ she acknowledged with a slight dip of her head, ‘But we gave her a full medical check-up just this morning and she appears to be in the prime of health. You read that part of your contract, I presume?’ Emma waited for him to nod his head. ‘Well then, you should be fully aware of what happens next. We’ll give Miss Darkholme one more check-up before she goes, hand her the details of her brand new bank account, put her up in a hotel for twenty-four hours where we will monitor her remotely, and then send her on her way.’

‘With no strings attached …?’ Charles could not help the way that his voice lifted up questioningly at the end, but Emma didn’t seem too upset by his doubt.

‘With no strings attached,’ she confirmed with a tilt of her head.

Charles closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. It was done now. He had done it. He had signed the contract. Raven was all but free. And yet … and yet there was still something that needed doing.

He slowly raised his head and met Emma’s eyes.

‘When she wakes up,’ he said carefully, ‘She will not know anything?’

Emma nodded. ‘She will be completely unaware of anything that happened over the past four months. The last thing she will remember is signing the contract and then, perhaps, the face of our Programmer.’

Charles nodded thoughtfully. 

‘So she will not know exactly how much time has passed?’ he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Emma gave him an odd look.

‘That is correct,’ she answered.

‘So one day or one month or one year could have passed, and she wouldn’t know the difference?’ Charles persisted.

Emma frowned slightly. ‘Well, not immediately,’ she said, her fair eyebrows drawn together, ‘But the moment she steps outside and sees a newspaper or turns on the television …’

‘I understand,’ Charles said quickly, ‘But what I am asking is – she wouldn’t _really_ know, would she? Until she went … outside?’

Emma was eyeing him narrowly now.

‘That is true,’ she said, watching Charles carefully. ‘She wouldn’t know for certain until she was out in the world.’

‘So when she wakes up,’ and here Charles licked his lips nervously, ‘as far as she would be able to tell, her contract would be up? I mean, she wouldn’t be able to tell, would she? The difference, I mean. Between – between five years and …’ he swallowed ‘… four months.’

Emma lifted an eyebrow. She did not answer immediately. When she did, her face was blank.

‘I see,’ she said at last. ‘You are suggesting that we do not inform Miss Darkholme as to your involvement with us, I take it?’

‘Yes,’ Charles nodded his head stiffly before grimacing. ‘Well – not immediately, at any rate. Not until – not until it’s too late. Otherwise -’ his voice broke and he raised a trembling arm to his forehead to push his hair away, ‘Otherwise I’m not sure I’d be able to …’ he trailed off, unable to complete his sentence.

There was a moment of silence.

‘I understand,’ Emma said at last, her voice quiet. She leaned forward then, meeting Charles’s eyes. ‘But I am wondering if _you_ do. Your sister will find out what happened, Charles. She will find out very quickly and I doubt that she will be happy when she does.’

Charles winced but nevertheless seemed to take some sort of strange strength from the words.

‘I know,’ he said, straightening up even as he looked down at his fingers. ‘I understand that she won’t – that she in all probability will never forgive me for this, but-’ he swallowed and looked at Emma beseechingly, ‘but I _have_ to do this. She’s my sister. I’d never let anything happen to her if I could help it. And – in this case – I can. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I simply stood by and allowed her to continue in this way. I just-’ he ran a shuddering hand through his hair ‘-I just want her to go on and lead a normal life. She’s still so very young …’

‘You’re not exactly an old man yourself,’ Emma pointed out in a detached tone.

‘Not according to Raven,’ Charles smiled bleakly. ‘She never did like my cardigans.’

The look on Emma’s face seemed to indicate that she didn’t rate cardigans too highly on her fashion spectrum either. Charles smiled at her expression, before his face fell and the haunted look returned once more.

‘Please,’ he entreated her, leaning forward earnestly, ‘I know that you have no reason to do as I ask, but …’ he faltered, his eyes glancing away for a moment before returning to Emma. ‘I can’t risk her doing or saying anything to dissuade me,’ he said in a firmer tone of voice, ‘and I know my sister well enough to know that she would try. I can’t – there can’t be any loopholes, do you understand?’ He leaned forward intently, his expression fierce and determined. ‘You mustn’t offer her a deal like mine. This has to be final – it _has_ to end with me. Will you promise me that?’

Emma was wearing a very odd expression on her face.

‘… Yes,’ she said after a moment, and though her face was blank there was a sincerity to her words that allowed Charles to let out a sigh of relief, ‘We had never intended to make her a second deal, but I will give you your promise nonetheless. We shall not have any further dealings with Miss Darkholme as of tomorrow. Your sister shall remain free and out of our clutches. I promise you.’

Charles nodded at that, his throat too tight for speech. The room fell into silence.

The quiet was finally broken by Emma, who sounded strangely hesitant for a woman that Charles would have never suspected of being anything other than cool, assured and confident.

‘I know you have no reason to look on me kindly,’ she said quietly as she stared down at the table in front of her, a small wrinkle in the middle of her forehead, ‘But believe me when I say that I take no pleasure from this. This is not how I want things. This is not the way that I choose to do business. The people that we select for this programme usually have little left to lose and everything to gain. You, on the other hand …’ her mouth twisted up into an unhappy curl. ‘You would usually be nowhere near the realm of those we take in.’ She sighed then, in a combination of sadness and exasperation. ‘If only you hadn’t been there that day!’ she said bitterly. ‘If only _he_ wasn’t such a-’ She abruptly stopped herself there and within seconds she was once more the calm, blank-faced woman that he had met at the start of the interview. She shook her head, her blonde hair swaying gently with the movement. ‘Well. Never mind that. What’s done is done.’ She looked up and finally met Charles’s eyes. ‘But one thing I will say, Mr Xavier, even though I understand if it doesn’t mean very much to you, and it is this: I am sorry.’

Charles didn’t respond. There wasn’t really anything that he could say to that. Miss Frost had been right – her apology didn’t mean very much to him. On the other hand, though, he could somewhat appreciate the gesture: Miss Frost was, after all, just doing her job. Was it really her fault if that job was one of the vilest, most loathsome occupations to have ever been conceived? Charles deliberately didn’t allow himself to answer that one.

Just as the silence between them was beginning to become oppressive, the phone that Emma had placed on the desk began to vibrate. Emma immediately reached for it and, pressing a button, brought the phone to her ear.

‘Yes?’ she asked crisply. She waited for a moment before responding. ‘Good. You have her sedated, I gather?’ She paused again. ‘Yes, that is correct. Tomorrow. That is when her release has been scheduled. No, Dr Essex, I will not hear anything further on the matter.’ She was silent for a few brief seconds. ‘Very well. If that is all, then you ought to get started on your final report. And have your assistant – McCoy, isn’t it? – have him send for Dr. MacTaggart. Miss Darkholme will need to be given another once-over before she is released.’ And with that she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. 

Charles was biting his lip, an anxious and almost wistful look on his face.

‘Will I get to see her?’ he asked quietly, trying very hard to keep his breathing slow and even. ‘Before – _before_?’

Emma considered before slowly lowering her head in a nod.

‘I think that can be arranged,’ she said softly. She waited until Charles had closed his eyes and nodded before continuing, ‘It will have to be while she is still sedated, of course – as per your own request.’

Charles nodded again, quickly.

Emma cleared her throat.

‘Normally we grant our … _employees_ a grace period of seven days to get their affairs in order,’ she said, speaking slowly as if to make sure that Charles followed her every word. ‘This period can, however, be waived if one so desires it.’ She paused. ‘Your sister, for example, decided that it would be easier for her to waive this right and enter into her contracted time immediately rather than make use of her seven days. It is not an uncommon choice,’ she explained gently at Charles’s stricken look. ‘A great many of our Actives either have nothing left for them outside, or otherwise choose to begin their contract immediately so as to not have it hanging over their head for a week. It is understandable, is it not?’

Charles reluctantly nodded his head.

‘It is up to you what you choose to do,’ Emma continued briskly. ‘You can choose to waive the seven days or you can use them to do whatever it is that you want – indulge in any previously-ignored hedonistic impulses, wrap up your loose ends, say goodbye to your loved ones …’

‘No,’ Charles quickly shook his head, ‘I – I don’t want any of that. Not now. I’m already on leave from the university and Raven’s the only one …’ he swallowed. ‘Raven’s the only person I have,’ he finished helplessly. He shook himself then and straightened up. ‘At most, I think I will need about a day,’ he said, trying to hide his emotions behind sheer pragmatism. ‘Just to put some things in order and say goodbye to a few friends and – and empty out the fridge and-’ he choked suddenly, a startled laugh catching in his throat ‘- put the _bins_ out – oh god, it’s like I’m going on a bloody holiday!’ Slightly hysterical, he pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Next thing you know, I’ll be leaving a note out for the milkman!’ 

Emma didn’t seem to find this funny. She waited until his shuddering had subsided before speaking.

‘You will, of course, be monitored during the time that you spend outside,’ she said formally, and Charles suspected that she had given this speech hundreds of times before. ‘Not obtrusively, of course, but just to ensure that you won’t do something foolish like decide to flee the country.’ She gave him a look as if to say _It’s happened before_.

Charles quickly shook his head.

‘I won’t,’ he promised.

‘Nevertheless,’ Emma smiled thinly. ‘You will have seven days to do whatever needs to be done. At the end of those seven days, you will await us at your residence where someone will be sent to escort you here. Any attempt to do otherwise will be dealt with accordingly.’ She did not elaborate further. ‘If, however, you decide to end your time outside prematurely, all you need to do is present yourself at the gates of the Shaw Foundation headquarters, and we will take things from there. Otherwise, simply call this number,’ and here she produced a plain white business card with a single line of digits on it before handing it over to Charles, ‘and let us know where you want to be picked up, and we will come for you.’

Charles cautiously took the card and, glancing at it briefly, put it into his pocket.

There was silence. Charles waited for a moment before shifting about in his seat awkwardly.

‘Is that it, then?’ he asked, hesitant.

Emma cocked her head.

‘That depends,’ she said. ‘Do you have anything that you want to ask me?’

Charles thought for a moment but his mind was blank. He knew that he would probably kick himself for this later, but at the moment all he really wanted to do was to see Raven and make sure that she was okay. Curiosity could come later – Raven, as in all things, came first.

Emma seemed to realise this as she barely waited for Charles to open his mouth to decline before she had stood up from her seat, taking Charles by surprise.

‘Very well, then,’ she said calmly, arching an eyebrow at Charles when he just sat there and stared at her. ‘If you still desire to see your sister …’

‘Of course!’ Charles immediately leapt to his feet, wobbling slightly as he stood, no doubt dizzy from both the sudden movement as well as the events of the past few hours. ‘Please – take me to her.’

Emma nodded at that and, waiting for Charles to step away from the desk, turned on her heel and marched towards the door. The door slid open the moment she reached it, and Charles could see the barest flick of a hand as the guard outside saluted at Miss Frost’s presence. She waited for Charles to follow her out of the room before turning to him with a cold, sharp smile.

‘Mr. Xavier,’ she said, lifting her arm and gesturing about her, and Charles was suddenly aware that he wasn’t standing on the floor of an ordinary building’s basement, but on the ground floor of an immense, bustling nerve-centre filled with hundreds of people. ‘Welcome to the Dollhouse.’


End file.
